Sharkey Steps Up
by Jen Martin
Summary: An alternate ending for the Season 3 episode, "Death Watch." Where would Nelson and Crane be without Chief Sharkey?


Sharkey Steps Up

A Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea fanfiction. This is an alternate ending for the Season 3 episode, "Death Watch," which seemed a little too easy to me.

He had never been afraid of drowning. He should have been, he knew, as many times as it seemed a likely outcome when a dive went awry or a mission took a devastating, unexpected turn. How many times had he found himself, cold and nearly breathless, hauled back aboard Seaview by the able hands of the crew? _By Lee's able hands, _he corrected himself.

But this time it was different. This time Harriman Nelson had really expected to drown. He'd been hanging by one hand, rushing water tearing at his body with frightening force, when Chief Sharkey finally ended the experiment in subliminal control, bringing Lee back to his senses. _Back to his senses_, Nelson thought, _but not yet back to himself_. When the Captain called Sharkey to come to the FS-1's bay on the double, he used the same cold, detached voice as the implacable killer who'd hunted Nelson remorselessly throughout Seaview. It had taken both of them to haul the Admiral out of danger. He'd been dead weight, no help at all. His last reserves of strength spent, he now he lay shaking uncontrollably on the deck at their feet: a fish gasping and flailing in the hands of the fishermen.

Nelson wanted to weep. Never had he so wanted to weep. Surely Francis would forgive him such a lapse this once, knowing what he'd been through in the last few hours: the constant pain, fear, and confusion. The botched experiment had been a relentless assault on mind and body, a marathon with no end but certain death, because it had been Lee hunting him and Lee was the best.

Why was he struggling so hard to contain his tears? Was it for the sake of his poor, abused dignity? Nelson knew it was ridiculous to worry about something like that when the Chief was stripping off his soaking trousers. Gentle hands peeled away his shirt, careful of his wounded arm. In a moment he would be lying naked on the deck, so really, why not give in to his exhaustion and anguish?

He was brought up short by a staccato sob. Someone was already crying, softly and angrily. Nelson pushed back his own pain and opened his eyes. He was propped against Lee's chest, his shirt halfway off. The Captain was trying to control Nelson's trembling, jerking body as he slid it the rest of the way off his damaged shoulder. Lee was having a hard time of it and the situation wasn't helped by the furious sobs that broke from him at intervals.

Nelson looked up wonderingly, trying to focus on the Captain's face. It was a harder task than it should have been. His eyes, like the rest of his body, weren't following orders very well. When he finally brought them into line, Nelson would have smiled if he could. Lee's expression was stormy, almost desperate, a far cry from the calm, heartless demeanor he'd displayed earlier. Now he looked as if his heart was breaking.

"Lee?" It was hard to get the words out. Nelson wished his teeth would stop chattering. "You're back. Thank God, you're back! Are you hurt?"

Lee shook his head once, furiously. "No." He tugged angrily at the wet sleeve, taking out his frustration on dripping cotton. Nelson gasped and Lee swore. "Dammit! I have to get this shirt off you, you're too cold, and it won't come over this arm. It won't come off and I don't want to hurt you again. What the hell am I going to do?" His voice was tinged with panic.

"I'll tell you what you're both going to do," Sharkey said calmly. The Chief had been carefully wrapping a blanket around Nelson's lower body and now he sat back, fixing them with a gaze that brooked no defiance. "You," he pointed at Lee, "are going to calm down." His tone was the one he saved for new ratings who jumped out of their skins at the first General Quarters. "I want three deep breaths, Captain, before you say another word. Get hold of yourself, sir!"

Nelson wanted to laugh at Lee's expression. The Captain's face reddened, whether with embarrassment or anger Nelson couldn't guess. He was relieved when Lee obediently drew a shaky breath and closed his eyes as he released it. The taut grip on Nelson's uniform relaxed.

"That's it. Two more, sir," Sharkey said approvingly. He waited to make sure Lee was complying before looking down at the Admiral. "You need to stop talking and conserve your strength. You're dangerously close to going into shock, whether you realize it or not."

"Oh, I realize it, all right," Nelson bit out. "Clammy skin, can't catch my breath, rapid pulse, dizzy…"

"What did I say about the talking?" Sharkey glared at Nelson for a moment before turning his attention back to Lee. "Here, lower his head to the deck and lift his right arm above the level of his heart. I'll prop his legs up. Let's try to get that shirt off again and more blankets on him. Did he take a blow to the head?"

"No." Lee's voice was softer, more controlled, but Nelson could still hear the anxiety in it. "At least, I don't think so. It's hard to remember everything that happened, but I don't think I hit him in the head."

"He didn't," Nelson mumbled. He was starting to feel a little warmer in spite of the blood loss and his dousing in cold water. Or maybe his body was too tired to keep shivering and was finally giving out. It was a mildly frightening thought. He hoped his heart was as strong as he thought it was. "Lee," he whispered. "If I go into shock, don't let me go, you hear? Stay with me." He hated the pleading note in his voice. Earlier, when they were fighting, he had begged Lee to listen to him, but really he'd been begging for his life. Now he was begging again. So much for dignity, indeed!

"He won't," Sharkey said, since Lee seemed too overcome to respond. "The only place you're going is to sleep, though, sir. If there's no head injury, sleep's the best thing. Just relax. You're OK. We'll be home soon."

Nelson's last conscious thought was that the Chief really was a font of good sense and useful advice. He hated to think what would have happened to him and Lee without Francis Sharkey. _I'd be dead and Lee would be destroyed_, _that's what_. He felt a gentle pressure on his sleeve and the whisper of fabric over his skin. _Lee finally got my shirt off._ Then he knew nothing more.

Two days later, Admiral Nelson lay propped up in a hospital bed in Santa Barbara, sipping coffee and playing poker with his Captain. He had opted for the card game instead of chess, although Lee had graciously offered to play either to help pass the time while Harry recuperated. Nelson always won when they played chess and, while Lee never seemed to mind, the Admiral wasn't in the mood to score victories over the young man. Lee was an excellent card player, with his quick mind and inscrutable poker face. Harry sighed, glancing at the younger man's serene expression as he studied his hand. Ruefully, he admitted he usually wore his thoughts openly, whether he meant to or not.

He scowled at his useless cards, then belatedly tried to school his features to a bland expression. It was too late. He looked up to see Lee watching him with an amused twinkle in his eye.

"Well, it's a poor hand," Nelson blustered.

"Apparently." Lee's amusement deepened and Harry found himself smiling in response. It was good to have the Captain, _his Captain_, back to his normal self.

There was a knock at the door and Lee rose to answer it, ushering in Chief Sharkey. The Chief carried a bottle with a red ribbon tied around the neck. "Some of the men wanted to send you this, sir. Thought it might speed your recovery."

Nelson read the label and nodded appreciatively. "An excellent cognac, Chief. Please thank them for me." He looked meaningfully at Sharkey. "And thank you, Francis."

"The brandy's from the men, sir!"

"I wasn't referring to the gift."

Sharkey blushed, shifting awkwardly. "Well, I should be going. I didn't mean to interrupt your game."

"Let us deal you in, Chief." Lee motioned him towards a chair, collected the cards, and started shuffling. "The Admiral obviously hated his hand, anyway."

"What are you playing?" Sharkey asked, beginning to warm to the idea of a game in spite of his nervousness playing with the Admiral and the Captain. He had to admit they seemed much less remote now than they had before. He had waited for repercussions because of the way he'd spoken to them when they were alone on Seaview, but after two days passed and the Captain never mentioned it, he guessed he was in the clear.

"Five card draw."

"What's wild?"

Lee looked up from dealing. "Nothing's wild. Just playing straight."

"But it's more exciting with wild cards," Sharkey protested. "Sirs," he added as an afterthought.

Lee laughed. "I think the Admiral and I have had enough wild cards and excitement thrown our way in the last few days. Wouldn't you agree, sir?" He cast a fond glance in Nelson's direction.

Nelson chuckled his agreement and reached for his coffee. He didn't sip it right away but nursed it in his hands, basking in the warmth.


End file.
